Could That Have Really Happened?
by OriginalProxy
Summary: Parker is a displaced person with no clue who she was.
1. Danger Help

DISCLAIMER: I, not being TNT, do not own the Pretender or any of its characters. If I did own them, we'd still be watching new episodes, or at the very least a very nice bone would have been thrown to all of the Jarod/Parker shippers out there.  
  
There were too many words that needed to spring from the blinking cursor like civilization from the Tigris-Euphrates river valley. Miss Parker, the daughter of Catherine Jamison, the nice woman who tried to save Timmy before he was forced to go away, he was forced away by the evil doctor Mister William Raines, Raines had emphysema and no one deserved it more. Daughter, she was in serious danger. Someone wanted her dead, Angelo could feel the walls of the Centre pulsating with anger, danger and anger were both directed at Miss Parker and no member of her family would or could save her this time, he had found an order for her death. Danger, and only one person could save her, Angelo hoped he would, Jarod was the hero. Jarod would know what to do and how to keep Miss Parker safe.  
  
Jarod opened the file from CJ with mild trepidation; Angelo only made contact when he had news worth passing. The e-mail itself was short, it only read, "Daughter in danger, Jarod help," but it filled Jarod with fear. Attached to the message was a Centre issue warrant for the death of one Miss Parker. The fact that Honolulu was about as far away from Blue Cove as he could be was just an added difficulty.  
  
He dialed her number, it was about two am Delaware time. The phone rang. The phone rang for a second time and he tried to tell himself that it was not a problem, that she was in a deep sleep. The phone rang for a third time. After the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. Jarod made it a point not to leave obvious records of his contact with any Centre employees, especially not the members of his search team, but her life was on the line either way.  
  
"Parker, this is Jarod, if you're there pick up the phone, if you aren't I'm hoping that you're still breathing. I found a Centre death order for you; you need to get the hell out of Blue Cove as of yesterday because your family won't save you this time. This is not a game." Jarod set the phone down with worry etched into every one of his features. "Please believe me," he whispered.  
  
Five minutes later, after he was booked on a seven am flight to Dover that same day, he was anxious to be doing something more. He wanted to call her again, but he knew it made the most sense to wait an hour. He wanted to call Sydney and have the older man drive to Parker's house to check up on her. He wanted to call her cell phone and make sure she wasn't just out at some bar while he worried needlessly.  
  
He almost slapped himself, for a genius, he sure panicked easily. He dialed Parker's cellular phone easily. It rang. Her voice did not snap an inquiry reassuringly over the line. It rang again. No irritated malice blamed him for interrupting a pleasant evening. It rang a third time. He waited with bated breath, but his call was shunted into an automated voice messaging system and he hung up. He paced around the hotel room, packing up the evidence from his latest pretend. He wasn't finished, but he could send what he had to the local PD and hopefully they'd reopen the case. If not, he could always come back once he was sure Parker was safe.  
  
He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't put justice for several deaths over Parker's life. It should have been simple mathematics. It was a weakness that it wasn't, and the inevitable conclusion to that equation was that Jarod would be hurt. Jarod would be hurt badly. 


	2. Pie Cures All Ills

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Pretender or any of its characters, all rights belong to TNT, but I'm hoping they won't sue me for playing in their world for a little while as it is a whole lot more fun than my room.  
  
Katia could hear a sickening smack as her head hit the brick wall a few seconds after her body did. She was almost too afraid to feel the pain, however, and the leather glove gripping her throat was certainly distracting. A silver knife came from somewhere, glinting in the dark alley. She wanted to scream, but somehow the hot breath of her attacker stifled coherent thought as easily as his fist clenched about her throat caught any sound she could hope to make.  
  
Then, suddenly, the pressure of his body pressed against hers was gone. She sank to the ground and soon a warm voice startled her out of her reprieve. "Are you all right," the man asked, causing her to look up at him. He had trustworthy brown eyes, and the outstretched hand looked both strong and non-threatening. She took it and he helped her up.  
  
"You don't appear to be injured," Jarod said steadying the girl while he spoke, "Is there somewhere I can take you?"  
  
"Nell's," the girl whispered shakily. Nell's seemed to refer to the diner on the corner just beyond the ally. Maybe the girl worked there.  
  
"My name is Jarod, by the way," he introduced himself. He didn't have a last name, he was just passing through this town; he didn't plan on staying long enough to need a name or an occupation.  
  
"Katia," the teenager said, her voice still trembling. He held the door open for the girl while she entered the empty restaurant. It was late, and the place would probably close soon. The only inhabitant of glowing diner was a waitress in a soft yellow uniform who came rushing over to the girl the minute they were inside.  
  
"Katia, are you alright. Sit down and tell me what happened," the woman said, kindly helping the girl who was still nursing her head to a booth. The girl seemed much better for seeing a friendly face, and she answered in a complete sentence, although her voice still shook. Jarod, however, noticed none of these details.  
  
"I was attacked in the alley. Jarod chased the guy away and saved me." The waitress turned her attention to the man for the first time, and he got a clear view of her eyes. Then he realized he'd done nothing but stare at her the entire time he stood just within the doorway.  
  
"Well, I guess that makes you a hero, Jarod," the waitress said, offering him a cocky smirk, "Have a seat. Heroes and shocked victims both get free pie here." Jarod returned the smile weakly, and the girl brightened considerably.  
  
"What sort of pie do you want," Nell asked with a smile that could launch ten thousand ships. "The apple is still warm, it came out of the oven two hours ago for the late night sweet teeth we always seem to get, but there are still a few pieces left, there is also cherry and French Silk if you like your pie cool. Katia will be having apple, of course, she needs comfort food."  
  
"Apple sounds delicious," Jarod said after giving himself a mental shake and remembering to be charming and act casually.  
  
"Terrific, I'll be right back," Nell stated with a smile. Jarod smiled reassuringly at Katia, but he hardly knew she was there. His mind whirled with the possibilities that the woman fetching pie was really Miss Parker, that he had not seen her body deathly still in its coffin, nor heard a great deal of detail about the internment from Sydney. He toyed with the possibility of a clone or another twin, but he ruled out both of those as possibilities. If she was Parker, she was doing a great job of pretending not to recognize him. Over the last three months, thirteen days, he had 'seen' Parker too many times to count, but her voice, her overall manner had never stood up to scrutiny like this. He was utterly confused and he didn't have time to work out every possible explanation because Nell was coming back with pie.  
  
After setting a piece of pie in front of the two customers, she poured three cups of coffee and sat down without preamble. "So, Mister Jarod, can you tell me what happened to shake up Katia this badly?"  
  
"I'm not the best witness," Jarod said slowly, "I was walking past the alley and I saw movement. I looked a little closer and I saw a guy with a knife pinning her to the wall. I shouted and chased after him, but he had too much of a start and I decided to check on her rather than continue pursuit. If she can't identify him, we'll never find him." The way Jarod growled the last part of his statement led Nell to believe that he didn't really like back-alley bullies.  
  
"You seem to know a lot about this," she said with a soft smile, "Are you a police officer or do you just make it a habit to rescue the weak and abused?"  
  
"Closer to the second than the first," Jarod said, returning the smile and panicking in an attempt to garner hints that she knew who he was.  
  
"Yes, I'll bet you're a regular Onysius," she smirked flirtatiously.  
  
"What did you call me," Jarod asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. Was she hinting? Did she fake her death? Was he grasping at straws?  
  
"Probably means something in ancient Mesopotamian," Katia cut in with a smile, she seemed to be feeling much better after her pie. "We take bets on what Nell was before she lost her memory. I always go with professor because she knows everything there is to know."  
  
"Actually," Nell cut in, "he was the Greek god of"  
  
"Retribution," Jarod finished. "He is symbolized by an angel with broken wings: I was just surprised by the comparison."  
  
"Wow," the two women said at the same time, for very different reasons.  
  
"Someone who knows what Nell is talking about," Katia said sarcastically.  
  
"A knight in shining armor who actually has something inside his helmet," Nell practically purred. Jarod's brain was still simulating every possible reason Nell could look and act so much like Parker, so his conversation was running on autopilot, but he could tell she was flirting with him.  
  
"Katia mentioned that you don't know what you were before you came here," Jarod said, changing the subject rather abruptly and trying not to look directly into her eyes.  
  
"Yeah," Nell said, still smiling, but she seemed a little hesitant to talk about the new topic. "Three months ago I woke up in the hospital here with no idea who I was and no one at the hospital seemed to know how I'd gotten there. I didn't even have a chart. Luckily, I met Billy and he offered me a waitressing job and a place to stay. I didn't have a name, so he started calling me Nell, said I reminded him of his wife."  
  
"She's being modest," Katia cut in with a smile, her ordeal was completely forgotten by this point. "Bill was in serious trouble and everyone in town knew it, when Nell died, her hospital bills left Billy in debt in a bad way. He was going to lose the restaurant, but Nell got his books in order within a week and her pies didn't do anything but help."  
  
"So it only took you three months to become a fixture in this town," Jarod asked with a polite grin, wanting to confirm the timeframe more desperately than he'd ever wanted anything.  
  
"I'm not exactly a fixture," Nell said, blushing and looking down at the table.  
  
"Actually, she is, especially with the high school students. Nell runs a bit of a tutoring service that helps to keep the restaurant packed from three to six." Katia took a sip of her coffee and waited for Nell to get mad.  
  
"I told you not to call it that," Nell said, her voice freezing over so suddenly that Jarod knew, for the first time, she could not be anyone but Miss Parker.  
  
"I'm sorry Nell," Katia said, meekly setting down her mug and surreptitiously glancing at Jarod for help. "I was just joking."  
  
"What is it, then," Jarod intervened quickly, "if it isn't a tutoring service."  
  
"I don't know," Nell said, rolling her eyes. "I just happen to have a lot of high school students come in to the diner around then. I wouldn't have any other customers then, so I don't mind if they sit and just order fries and pie, high school students are snackers."  
  
"Yes," Katia continued in a completely serious tone of voice, "And since they are there anyway, it makes total sense for you to explain complex calculus and physics while you pour coffee." Jarod laughed aloud when Nell smiled guiltily.  
  
"I hope they tip you well," he said.  
  
"Oh they do," Nell replied, her guilty smile turning into a fond one. "Katia here wrote a poem about 'The Know-It-All Waitress' for her English assignment last week. It was the nicest tip I've ever gotten." Katia blushed furiously and didn't speak. A subtle vengeance, Jarod noted, but he had no doubt about it being an intentional one.  
  
"So," Jarod said, changing the subject for the teenager's sake, "If you recall everything from Greek lore to calculus, how is it that you don't remember anything about your past?"  
  
Nell shrugged with disinterest, but Jarod saw something he could almost call fear behind her eyes. "I haven't really tried to remember anything, it's obvious that no one cared about be because no one has come looking. To answer your question technically, the doctor said it's not uncommon for amnesiac patients to remember information and not remember learning it."  
  
"I just can't believe you wouldn't try to find your family," Jarod said slowly, his eyes searching her face for any sign at all. "I was taken from my family as a boy and I've spent every spare minute I have searching for them." She did not react to his words in any way other than to offer a sympathetic smile that did not quite reach her eyes.  
  
"I hope they want you when you find them," she said softly, her expression carefully maintained, but her eyes flinched ever so slightly. "I've read about children, who were put up for adoption, trying to find their parents only to be horribly disappointed in the end."  
  
"I wasn't adopted," Jarod said still smiling without force, "I know they wanted me as a boy, and I'm positive they'll be happy to have me back."  
  
"I hope so," Nell said, still smiling, but the look in her eyes said she wanted to be anywhere else.  
  
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat all night, Nell, but I told my mum I'd be home soon and I don't want her to worry," Katia said, breaking the tension.  
  
"I'll walk you before I head back to my hotel, it wouldn't do for you to be attacked twice in one night," Jarod offered with his trademarked grin.  
  
"Thank you," Katia accepted graciously. "Bye, then Nell. Thank you for the pie."  
  
"Yes, thank you very much," Jarod mimicked, "It was really great to meet you."  
  
"How long are you in town for," Nell asked, shaking Jarod's proffered hand.  
  
"A little while, why?"  
  
"You're really only the second night in shining armor I've met in the past three months, and I wouldn't mind seeing more of you. Stop by again before you skip town," she said with a smile.  
  
"Will do," Jarod promised, the warmth in his eyes growing without bounds. "Good night, then."  
  
"Sweet dreams," Nell called after them as they left the warm golden light of the diner to make their way through the unlit streets of the small town.  
  
"You know," Katia began once they were a fair distance from the diner, "I think she likes you."  
  
"What makes you say that," Jarod asked, only slightly paying attention.  
  
"She never flirts with anyone. She hasn't been on a date since she woke up."  
  
"Maybe it's just a sign that she's feeling better," Jarod replied, still not giving her his full attention.  
  
"Maybe, but that still doesn't explain why she told you so much. She hasn't sat down and told anyone her story like that since before the stranger came and visited her."  
  
"Stranger," Jarod asked, recognizing small town gossip when he heard it. He was actually surprised that a town this large would still have this sort of gossip, but he assumed that an amnesiac waitress as pretty and intelligent as Parker would naturally attract attention.  
  
"Yeah, they say he was missing his thumb, but I think that's just gossip. I saw him, and I didn't notice it. He was about your height with a slightly slimmer build, but he scared the crap out of Nell, no one saw her for an entire day after he spoke with her. Bill wouldn't talk about it either. When she came down she stopped looking for her past and she refused to say anything about it to anyone. You're the first person she's even broached the subject with." The cheerful teenager was trying to set her savior up with her tutor, but she was giving Jarod far more information than she knew.  
  
'Lyle,' Jarod wondered to himself. There was suddenly a distinct possibility that Parker's death had been faked by someone else and she was telling him the truth. That was by far the reason he desired to be true in respect to her falsified demise, but this was the first possible proof that he had. "Did you see this stranger," Jarod asked aloud.  
  
"Yes, but only from afar, and he did wear one black glove in a sort of Michael Jackson I'm-Bad way, but I don't think it was to hide the fact that he's thumbless."  
  
'Definitely Lyle,' Jarod thought, and he could not keep a smile from his face. "That look went out a long time ago, didn't it?"  
  
"I suppose," Katia replied with a laugh. "Anyway, this is me. Thank you for the escort. And thanks again for the saving my life bit." She squeezed him quickly around his middle.  
  
"Anytime to either," Jarod replied, returning the hug briefly. He returned to his hotel room. During the first month after her death he had searched furiously and without sleep for any record that it could have been falsified. Even now, with a villain to look for, he knew he would find nothing and another search could let someone know she'd been found. Instead, he worked to find the best way to restore his friend's memory. 


	3. There Was A Boy

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Pretender, but I'm hoping TNT won't sue me for theft as the only profit I get out of playing with their characters is my own enjoyment.  
  
The man wiping up the long counter was close to, if not over sixty. His hair and well trimmed beard were both a silvery white only a little brighter than his immaculate apron, under which was a colorful flannel shirt and a well-worn pair of jeans. The friendly name- tag on his apron said "Bill", but no one in the diner except Jarod actually needed the badge to know him. There was a waitress in a yellow uniform working, but she was a blonde teenager, obviously just a weekend worker.  
  
"Excuse me, Bill," Jarod asked, causing the man to look up from his wiping.  
  
"Just plop yourself down anywhere and Cheri will see to ya'," the man said, smiling kindly.  
  
"Actually, my name is Jarod, and I was kind of hoping to sit in Nell's section, unless she isn't working today," he asked politely.  
  
"Nell comes on in about half an hour for the lunch shift," Bill said, looking curiously at the younger man. "In all fairness, though, I should warn you. She may be the prettiest thing in ten states, but she doesn't date. I'm not being an overprotective father type, either, ask anyone in town."  
  
"Oh, I'm not trying to, um," Jarod stumbled a bit, wondering how to deal with such an abrupt warning and assumption. "I came in last night and met her, I'm only in town for a few days and she suggested I come back and talk to her again before I leave."  
  
Bill's expression changed and his eyes grew wide for a brief moment. "Well, I guess I'll run upstairs and get her for you," he said with a sly smile. Jarod was still uncomfortable with the presumption, but at least he'd get to talk with the woman he hoped was Parker.  
  
Nell was humming to herself as she smoothed her lavender sundress and carefully applied a little more makeup than she would normally wear. In the doorway to her room, Bill cleared his throat.  
  
"What are you doing up here," she scolded playfully. "I'll be down when I'm supposed to!"  
  
"Does your choice not to wear the uniform have anything to do with the young man downstairs who just asked about you," he inquired in the same playful vein.  
  
"I," she stuttered, "Both of my sets could stand to be a little cleaner, and you said the uniforms were optional. You were against them in the first place. What young man?"  
  
"I don't know," Billy said teasingly, "his name was James or Jeremy, maybe Jarod, and he said he met you last night and asked to sit in your section."  
  
Bill's teasing was rewarded with a dreamy smile before Nell realized her expression and abruptly wiped it off her face. "Well, I did meet him, but I was hoping he'd come by closer to the end of my shift," she said, unable to exile the grin wholly from her face.  
  
"What shift," Bill asked with a broad wink.  
  
"The one I'm working in half an hour," Nell said, shaking herself and tying her apron deftly around her waist.  
  
"Oh, that, I meant to tell you that Cheri wanted more hours so I told her you could use a break, you're only working the later half of your shift today," Bill said, apologetically. Nell's eyes narrowed accusingly.  
  
"And Cheri desired this before or after you met Jarod? And if I were to go downstairs and speak with Cheri about this desire, would she have any knowledge of it?"  
  
"Come on now," Bill said, trying to frown, "He'll only be in town a few days, if you're going to snag him, now is the time!"  
  
"What?!" Nell blushed furiously. This was not the way Billy usually spoke.  
  
"Joking aside, Nell," Billy said, taking her hand in both of his, "You do need to get out. It isn't right for a pretty young woman like you to spend every free minute working in the restaurant, not that I don't appreciate the constant help. All work and no play, you know."  
  
"You know I can't remember ever being on a date. Don't you think it will be a little bit awkward if I go down there before he's even ordered and suggest we blow this Popsicle stand?"  
  
"I'll take care of it," Billy said compassionately, "you just finish getting dolled up."  
  
Billy then returned to the diner downstairs while Nell finished carefully brushing her hair.  
  
"Jarod," Bill called, causing the man to look up from his coffee and smile. Bill approached him from the other side of the counter and started putting food into a wicker basket. "I'm about to do an incredible favor for you," the man announced without preamble.  
  
"You are," Jarod asked quizzically.  
  
"I am," Bill said, closing the basket. "Take this, and go wait outside. Your lunch date will join you momentarily."  
  
"My lunch date," Jarod inquired, a smile playing about his lips.  
  
"The prettiest girl in ten states," Bill confirmed, "she just doesn't know she's going out with you yet."  
  
"I guess that is an incredible favor," Jarod confirmed, not bothering to hide his grin.  
  
"Scoot," Bill instructed, shoving the basket into his hands.  
  
Jarod did not need to wait very long before Parker exited the diner in the simplest and most beautiful dress he'd ever seen her wear. She looked rather disoriented and confused.  
  
"Hello, Jarod," she said slowly, "Do you know why Billy stole my apron and pushed me out here?"  
  
"I believe that would be because you are my lunch date," Jarod said, laughing.  
  
"Oh," Parker replied, nodding sagely as a panicked expression slowly took control of her features. "Your lunch date. That would explain why you have Billy's picnic basket."  
  
Jarod read the expression easily, and his smile vanished. "If you're not interested you can go back inside," he offered, carefully hiding his own disappointment.  
  
"That's alright," she replied, flashing a smile. "I know the perfect spot for a picnic, and afterward, I know the perfect revenge for meddling old bosses." Jarod chuckled appreciatively and followed her down the street. "So, Jarod, what do you do for a living?"  
  
"You can't tell," he asked playfully.  
  
"Hmm," she said, pretending to seriously consider the matter. "Are you a truck driver?"  
  
"I actually do know how to drive a big rig, but no, I'm not a truck driver."  
  
"Are you a conductor for the Philharmonic?"  
  
"How ever did you guess," he replied playfully. "What would you want someone you just met to be?" Nell was sure he couldn't get any more flirtatious, but she found herself not minding in the least.  
  
"Why don't you tell me what you are, so I know the right answer," she flirted back shamelessly.  
  
"No, I'm serious," he said, with a smile that said he was anything but. "If someone moved next door to you tomorrow, what profession would you want them to be in?"  
  
She thought about it for a minute and finally said, "Pediatrician. They would know CPR, be good with kids, and generally be a good person to have around."  
  
"Well," Jarod said, "I know CPR, I like children, and I was a doctor at Queen of Angels hospital in New York City for a while, so do I count?"  
  
She looked at him in surprise, then smiled. "Somehow, I don't think you are lying," she said.  
  
"I'm not," he replied, his smile not fading.  
  
"But, I don't think you are telling the complete truth." Before he could protest, she continued, "This is it! The perfect picnic spot!" She broke away from the sidewalk and, trusting he'd follow her, plopped down on the grass facing the sparkling lake.  
  
"You're right," he said, sitting next to her and opening the basket, "this is a beautiful spot."  
  
"Mmhm," she agreed. "Do you want egg salad or turkey and cheese?" Nell pulled out the various sandwiches as she spoke and popped open the lemon Snapple she claimed immediately.  
  
"Whichever you don't want is fine," Jarod said content with the Raspberry Iced Tea. This arrangement left him with the egg salad, but he honestly didn't mind. He pulled out some trail mix and opened a Tupperware container of fruit to pick at in between bites of sandwich.  
  
"Careful with the trail mix," Nell said absently, "Billy likes to put shelled pistachios in there."  
  
A triumphant smile crossed Jarod's lips, but he managed not to ask how she knew of his allergy. If she really didn't remember him, he didn't want to scare her. If she did remember him, she wouldn't have made such an obvious slip.  
  
"So," Jarod inquired, "Do you have any memories at all of your past?"  
  
She stared deeply into his eyes as though trying to discern his motivation for asking. Katia was right; Nell apparently didn't like this topic. Somehow, she felt like answering the question. "I do have one," she admitted almost shyly. "When I woke up it was the only thing I could recall, but it is too crazy to be a real memory, I think it might be a dream."  
  
"What is it," he encouraged curiously.  
  
"There is a boy," she began slowly, "I'm being introduced to him by a man with an accent, but there's a wall between us. We're being introduced through a window, and we both touch the glass. There's something important about meeting the boy." Nell laughed self consciously. "I'm sorry; I promise I'm really not as crazy as that makes me sound."  
  
"I don't think it sounds crazy at all," Jarod said, turning so she wouldn't see the tear in his eye. "Do you remember anything about the boy, what his name was, perhaps?"  
  
"Jarod," she said, wide eyed. "Are you that Jarod? Did you know me before this?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "They told me you were dead."  
  
She stood abruptly. "I have to go now. Please don't try to talk to me again. I have a different life now."  
  
"Parker," he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and grabbing her arm before she could leave. "What's wrong?"  
  
She turned to face him, and he knew she was afraid, but it made no sense that she should be afraid of him.  
  
"Talk to me, Parker," he pleaded, a tear falling down his cheek although he was feeling far too many emotions to put a label on it. "I lost you. For three months I've meandered through the country half alive, unable to pretend; hardly able to think. It only got better when I came to this town, as though proximity to you could alleviate the pain even if I didn't know the pain was pointless. Now, you won't even explain why you have to stay lost when you're standing here in the sunshine with me." His voice was angry, husky and tear-laden all at once.  
  
"I," she looked into his eyes and she could not look away. "I can't remember. He'll kill me if I remember."  
  
"Lyle," Jarod half asked half stated.  
  
"I don't know his name. He only told me he was my brother," she said, her voice trembling and a tear slipping from the fountain beneath her eye.  
  
"His name is Lyle. He can be pretty scary," Jarod said, trying to joke, but feeling as though he was instructing a child. "I can protect you from him. I promise I won't fail you a second time."  
  
"A second time," Parker asked, searching his eyes which were now filled with their own tears before he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a bone crushing embrace.  
  
"Just before you died, Angelo sent me word that you had a contract out on your life, but," he paused, not noticing that she had relaxed completely in his arms, "You were gone before I could save you. You were dead. I saw your body." She could feel tears falling on top of her head. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you Miss Parker, but I'll never fail you again."  
  
Nell rubbed Jarod's back soothingly. "Shush, it's okay; I'm not dead, see? I'm right here," she murmured gently.  
  
Abruptly, he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his eyes quickly on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Nell, I should keep my emotions on a tighter leash."  
  
"That's all right," Nell said, smiling kindly. "With guilt like that, I'm impressed you didn't break down the moment you saw me. I know I don't have any idea what the circumstances were, but I forgive you for not saving her."  
  
Jarod looked away for a long moment before a whispered "Thank you" reached Nell's ear. When he finally looked back, his expression was carefully unreadable. "Will you let me try to jog your memory," he asked his voice as expressionless as his face.  
  
"Yes," she replied, although there was fear in her eyes. Nell knew that Jarod needed to do this, and it probably had less to do with needing this Miss Parker back in his life than with assuaging his guilt over her death. All she had to do was let him try to make her remember, not remember, and then he would feel better and she wouldn't need to worry about her brother killing her permanently.  
  
"Then let's pack up this picnic and you can come to my hotel, okay?" Jarod didn't wait for an answer as he began putting empty containers and garbage back into the basket.  
  
"Right," Nell agreed when her offer to carry the basket was turned down. Together they walked back to the hotel Jarod was staying in. The hotel room was clean but impersonal, holding nothing more than a double bed, a television set and a desk. Jarod opened one of the drawers beneath the TV and pulled out a compact silver suitcase. He set it on the bed and opened it revealing what looked almost like a strange laptop. He sat on the bed and Nell bounced beside him, letting her legs hang off the edge opposite his making a parallel tableau that neither stopped to think about.  
  
"This is what you remember," Jarod said, flipping through a series of what looked like miniature CDs until he found one and inserted it into the player. He was right. As she watched Sydney introduce the two children, every word and feeling came flooding back to her perfectly. For a moment, she was there again, and she remembered another snippet.  
  
"We've kissed," she half stated, half asked after Jarod took the DSA out of the player. His mouth went dry as he found that DSA and inserted it wordlessly. Again, it was almost as if she was reliving the memory while watching it, she felt all of the same confused emotions that the kiss inspired. She saw flashes of candied hearts and bunny rabbits and she knew that the kiss could not have been an isolated incident.  
  
When he removed the DSA from the player she patiently and wordlessly watched him until his eyes met hers. Then, without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. His mouth pressed against hers for a minute, but only briefly before he pulled away suddenly.  
  
"What," he managed to stutter looking more frightened than anyone Nell had ever seen before.  
  
"Woops," Nell said contritely, "That was taboo, wasn't it." Jarod was now looking at the blank DSA player in an attempt to calm down.  
  
"When you get your memory back, you'll wish you hadn't done that," he explained his voice strangely calm.  
  
"I'm sorry," Nell took his hand comfortingly, "Am I married or something?"  
  
Jarod laughed loudly and turned back to face her. "No," he said, "You're not married."  
  
"Then why would I regret kissing you," she inquired innocently.  
  
Jarod recognized the ploy for what it was, but he still choked. He took the book off of his night stand and handed it to her wordlessly.  
  
"The Saddest Little Valentine," she read aloud inquisitively. "Did you draw this from memory," she flirted, recognizing Jarod as the author.  
  
"No," he replied, "I wrote this for you to try to make you realize something was wrong a long time ago, I think it will help you remember that."  
  
"Well did I model for it then," she asked, still teasing.  
  
"I have a good imagination," Jarod replied finally, with a half smile. "Come on, I'll walk you back to the diner. I wouldn't want you to be late for work when I'm the reason you were tricked into taking time off."  
  
"I'm sorry this is so hard on you," Parker replied, following him out of the hotel room. There was really no response he could make to that.  
  
He dropped her off at the diner, and went back to his hotel room. He did little more than stare at the ceiling there, contemplating Parker's return from the grave. He wanted to know why Lyle hadn't just killed her outright. He wanted to know when she would get her memory back. Most of all, however, he desperately wanted to know what she would think when she did get her memory back. His heart was very openly vulnerable to her, and he had to wait far longer for an answer than men usually did. "I love you, too" or "I'm sorry" was supposed to come within minutes, and he would have to wait days.  
  
Nell worked her shift at the restaurant with a slightly dimmer smile than usual. Only Billy actually suspected something was troubling her, few others even noticed she was distracted. "Going to tell me what the problem is," Billy asked when they were alone and closing the diner.  
  
"He knew me from before," she whispered.  
  
"How," Billy inquired, not needing to ask who.  
  
"I don't know, but since we were children. There had to be something incredibly awkward about our relationship before my 'death' -he was told I was dead by the way-because he felt that he couldn't tell me anything about it until my memory came back of its own accord."  
  
"Have you remembered anything more," Billy asked, putting a compassionate hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Just a few snapshot memories like the first, all dealing with him. Just enough to make me realize that our childhood was far from normal. He has recordings of his childhood, not baby-tapes; it is as if his life was monitored. I'd bring up a memory, and he'd flip through disks until he found it."  
  
"I still don't think you should keep yourself from remembering. So there might be a grain of truth in what your 'brother' told you, so what," Billy sighed as the daughter he'd never raised pulled away from him.  
  
"Jarod says his name is Lyle. If you'll excuse me, I have a book to read." She held it aloft so Bill could clearly see whose picture graced the cover.  
  
"I'll let you get to it then," he said, offering to finish closing up.  
  
She opened the novel with trepidation bordering on terror, and her feelings were justified as she read. The words seemed strangely familiar, as though she'd already read the story a thousand times, and her memories began to surface. Parker recalled losing her mother. The suicide in the elevator, discovering that it was not suicide, discovering that it had been a fake death in the first place, digging up her mother's grave and the existence of her baby brother, Ethan, all became pictures that surfaced in her mind as she paged through the story detailing the pain of a lost family member.  
  
Miss Parker recognized that her emotions had changed, grown, from the time Jarod first gave her this book, and she wondered how much of it was because of Jarod.  
  
"All of it, sweetie, although you'd never admit it."  
  
Who said that?  
  
"It's me, your momma."  
  
Miss Parker remembered quite clearly that her mother was dead, even if her grave was empty. Even if she wasn't dead, there was no one else in the room with her. If this was a joke, or a trick of Jarod's, she would not be pleased.  
  
"I am dead, and this isn't a trick."  
  
Twenty minutes later, Jarod opened his hotel-room door to a badly frightened Parker who immediately collapsed into his arms. "Was I crazy," she asked, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.  
  
"You had rather unhealthy emotional habits, but you weren't crazy," Jarod tried to joke, although he sensed that it was probably not the proper time to do so.  
  
"I finished your book, it did jog memories," Parker said, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "Then, the voice of my dead mother tried to start a conversation with me."  
  
Jarod smiled broadly. "That is your inner sense. Our brother, Ethan, has it too. I don't understand it, but you're not crazy. Your mother really does talk to you in a voice only you can hear."  
  
"Are you sure you aren't crazy," Parker asked, but already she was remembering the discovery of her inner sense.  
  
"I grew up in the Centre. For all I know I'm completely schizophrenic and this whole thing is just an episode in my head. To be honest, you being alive is a little convenient." Jarod smiled and gestured for her to enter the hotel room so that they could sit down while they spoke.  
  
Parker laughed lightly. "I've remembered enough about the Centre now to know that using Billy as a sounding board to talk about my memories would be a bad idea."  
  
"Probably," Jarod agreed. "You're always welcome to talk to me, though."  
  
"If you don't mind, I do have a couple of questions," Parker said, hedging around the question she really wanted to ask.  
  
"I'm all ears," he replied with a warm smile.  
  
"Why did I hate you so much," she asked bluntly.  
  
Jarod was floored, so he decided to answer honestly. "I don't know. I spent five years running from you trying to figure out what I did wrong. I never managed to."  
  
"There had to have been a reason," Parker insisted, "if I could just remember what the reason was, I think the rest of my memories would come back. I can only remember the half of my life that you gave me, and I know there must have been another half to make you fear me. It's frustrating."  
  
"Calm down," Jarod said, patting her hand reassuringly. "You can't expect to get your memory back fully in one day. You have made a lot of progress, especially since your Inner Sense seems to have returned. Go home, get some rest, and your memory will return in time. Your mother will help you."  
  
"I don't want to remember," Nell said suddenly.  
  
"I told you I'd protect you," Jarod said, standing and moving closer to her.  
  
"It isn't that," she replied, standing as well and looking deeply into his chocolate pools. "I don't want to hate you. I," she paused, looking incredibly uncertain.  
  
"Please don't say it," he begged, looking away. "I'll forget that you aren't yourself."  
  
"How am I not myself," she wanted to ask. "I am myself," she said quietly. "I'll go home now, if you want me to, but I refuse to believe that I ever truly hated you."  
  
"You'll remember soon enough," he promised, "and then you'll know, one way or the other."  
  
"I guess so," Parker said, moving past him to the door. "Good night, Jarod, I'm sorry I bothered you."  
  
"Hey," Jarod said, calling her eyes back to his. "You never bother me. I just can't," he broke off and looked away. Her visage softened at the sight.  
  
"I understand," she said softly. "I know this is hard for you, it's just hard for me too. I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
"Goodnight," he called after her, just as the door shut at her back.  
  
"I love you," she whispered, not turning to face the closed door. 


	4. Confronting The Watcher

DISCLAIMER: There are writers among us, fools without the ability to make up their own characters or worlds for stories. In 2003, a network known as TNT was the victim of one of these writers who liked their show. Then one day, the writer wrote a fan fiction. Don't sue me, I don't own anything.  
  
The watcher sat in his car, harnessing his anger. He was very good at frightening people, but it would always be a task to frighten her. She was, perhaps, the only person in the world he didn't want to fear him. She was also the person it was most important that he intimidate completely. So he sat in his car, forcing himself to become an inferno of rage.  
  
The watcher's meditations were interrupted by the appearance of a person he'd hoped never to see in this little town. He drew his gun and prayed he wasn't too late.  
  
"Freeze Jarod," he said, stopping the man just before he entered the diner. To Lyle's great surprise, the pretender actually put his hands up and turned to face his assailant.  
  
"Lyle," he stated evenly. "Where are the sweepers?"  
  
"Around," Lyle answered tersely. "Have you seen her?"  
  
"Yes," Jarod responded simply, causing Lyle to swear vehemently under his breath.  
  
"Then there are no sweepers and we need to talk."  
  
Jarod was intrigued. "Okay. Let's take a walk."  
  
Lyle put away his gun and the two walked next to each other, both men had all of their muscles tensed for a fight. "I know you despise me and you probably don't have too many cordial feelings left toward my sister, but I'm begging you to leave this town and never tell anyone you've been here."  
  
Jarod was shocked. "Tell me why she didn't remember me and I'll consider it."  
  
"She's my sister, Jarod," he began with a shrug. "I've killed a lot of people and never thought twice about any of them. I always thought I could kill her without hesitation: the way she thought she killed me once. I went there that night to shoot her in her sleep, but for the first time, I felt like she was half of me. She was a missing piece, my good side, maybe. So I woke her up at gunpoint and told her I'd been sent to kill her. She was surprised, but practically accepted her fate. We talked for a while and decided relocation was her best option. She didn't want to forget, even though she was certain no one would be too hurt if she faked her own death. I didn't want to take any chances, though, so while she was under the influence of the blowfish toxin, I drugged her up a second time to wipe her memories."  
  
"What are you doing here if she doesn't remember anything? Aren't you afraid of being followed?"  
  
"I'm on vacation. The Centre believes I'm 'camping' and no one would be foolish enough to follow me when I'm camping. I come here to make sure no one stumbles across her like you did. I come here to make sure she's still forgotten everything. It is safe for me to come because the only memories I can jog in her involve cannibalism and murder. Mostly, though, I come here to make sure she landed on her feet, has friends, and is happy. She now has a chance to be what we both could have been if we'd grown up normally. Please, Jarod, she's not a Parker anymore, just leave."  
  
"And I'm just supposed to believe this, Lyle," Jarod asked incredulously, although he had already simulated Lyle and decided he was telling the truth. "That Parker really has amnesia and this isn't an elaborate plot by the wonder twins to bring me in is hard enough to swallow, but the idea that a serial killer would help an assassin out of the goodness of his heart is just plain stupid."  
  
Lyle visibly sagged. "I can't give you any proof. The only evidence that anything I've told you is more than just a flight of fancy is playing waitress in a diner back there, but she can't confirm or deny anything. I know it is a moot point asking you to just trust me, so I'll resort to bribery. What can I do to make you forget being here?"  
  
The fact that Lyle would offer to do any sort of favor for Jarod was what finally convinced the pretender that the story was completely accurate. "Did she really believe no one would be too hurt by her death," he asked, not looking at the man next to him.  
  
"Yeah," Lyle answered, surprised at the change of subject. "I thought she was underestimating Sydney and the technician's kid, but she pointed out that they'd be no more or less hurt than if I really killed her."  
  
"Some of her memories are coming back," Jarod said, his tone completely professional and detached. "I had no idea why she was amnesiac or alive for that matter and just meeting me made her remember things in passing. She didn't recognize me, but she warned me away from a trail mix I'd be allergic to, things of that nature. I decided to help her get her memory back. She remembers quite a bit."  
  
Lyle cursed under his breath. "Is she going to shoot me for taking her memory," he asked curiously.  
  
"She doesn't have a gun anymore, not that that means you're in any less danger," the jovial pretender answered. In a slightly more serious tone he continued, "As far as I know, she doesn't remember deciding to fake her death yet, although I have a feeling that if you see her she'll remember that. Her memories are flooding back at the slightest reminders. The drug you gave her must not have been very good."  
  
"To block out her entire memory without damaging her system of production and storage of new memories it has to be pretty good," Lyle defended. "It works best with a willing subject, which I thought she'd be close enough to. She obviously didn't forget everything, she held onto some memory, probably of our mother, which you must have triggered when you first met her."  
  
Jarod smiled at this explanation, but chose not to correct Lyle. "Merits of the drug aside, I've been helping her regain her memory. I won't hurt her or let the Centre know in any way that she did not die, you have my word on that one."  
  
"This is a bad thing," Lyle muttered. "I guess I should go talk to her about this, then?"  
  
"It might help put the other half of her memory in place," Jarod said, perfectly able to keep the hint of melancholy out of his voice. He hoped she would not return to hating him.  
  
"What do you mean by half," Lyle asked. "She only remembers her childhood or something?"  
  
"Or something," Jarod answered, wondering how best to explain this without revealing weaknesses to his enemy. "She remembers quite a bit of what I know of her life. She completely recalls her childhood as well as the gist of her exploits over the last six years or so. She even remembers her boarding school and college experiences to a certain extent, even though I had no idea how to help her remember those because I didn't even know what they were. What she does not remember is why she did most of the things she remembers doing. She doesn't know why she hated me or why her emotions were untouchable."  
  
"And meeting her evil twin might help her to," Lyle half asked, half stated.  
  
"At the very least I'm willing to guess that your presence will help her remember how she came to forget everything. The two of you can sit down and have a conversation as brother and sister for the second time in either of your lives." Jarod hated Lyle, but Parker had always hated the fact that the only member of her family who wouldn't kill her to suit their own ends was already dead. Jarod couldn't deny the woman a brother who risked his own life for hers.  
  
Bill looked curiously at Jarod when he entered the diner with an uncomfortable Lyle in tow, but he didn't say anything. He got Nell's attention and pointed the pair out. Nell saw the two men standing there together and a flashbulb of memory burst through her mind. She clearly recalled the reason she was standing here in an apron instead of at the Centre in a designer suit. A brilliant smile lit her features as she shocked her brother by throwing her arms around him affectionately.  
  
"Thank you, Lyle," she said softly when his arms finally figured out how to return a hug.  
  
"You're not going to shoot me for memory theft," he asked hopefully as she pulled the two men from her past into the kitchen.  
  
"No," she grinned with chagrin at the thought that she probably would have if she still had the rage of her former self. "If I weren't so sentimental, I probably would have agreed to the memory wipe. I understand your reasoning and it was safer for both of us."  
  
"I'm glad it didn't work," he said daringly, "I'm glad my sister isn't really dead."  
  
His words were rewarded with an even broader smile. "I'm glad I have a brother who cares," she replied, "even if we weren't always on the same side."  
  
"I'm glad to be your brother, even if it does make me the evil twin," he answered, finding a smile on his own face. Suddenly, Parker's eyes glazed over and she stared wide-eyed at nothing. "Parker," he asked.  
  
After almost a minute without her responding, Lyle put his hand gingerly on her shoulder and gave her a little shake. The light pressure he applied caused Parker to lose her balance and fall into him, but she still made no move to get up or in any way acknowledged the fact that she was no longer standing under her own power. Lyle looked around for Jarod, but realized the pretender must have slipped away to give them time to talk. Lyle was more than a little worried about his sister's wellbeing.  
  
He got the attention of the cook and sent the man in search of Jarod while he tried desperately to get his sister to acknowledged external stimulus. A minute after the cook left, Jarod entered and took Parker into his own arms, calling to her repeatedly and begging her to hear him. Eventually, her eyes refocused on his face and she smiled.  
  
"Now how did I wind up in your arms, Jarod? Lyle didn't let you take advantage of me, did he?" Parker laughed as Jarod helped her to her feet looking relieved and embarrassed at the same time.  
  
"That must have been a very interesting memory you were reliving," Jarod replied, his voice businesslike and detached. "You were completely unresponsive."  
  
"Not one memory, about a hundred," Parker answered, a small smile replacing her grin. "I believe I can now say my memory is completely back."  
  
"You can," Jarod asked, his voice betraying a small wave of the ocean of apprehension he felt.  
  
"Yes," Parker confirmed, "Lyle would you excuse us for a minute, I have to talk to Jarod in private."  
  
"Sure, Sis," Lyle answered, returning to the diner for a cup of coffee.  
  
"Jarod," Parker said, her voice soft and compassionate, "I've remembered why I hated you."  
  
"Did you," he asked, his entire body tense with a hundred emotions, most threatening to bring tears to his eyes.  
  
Instead of responding verbally, she took his face in both of her hands and kissed him soundly. He was too shocked to pull away. Too confused to move he began to simulate the different reasons she could have for kissing him. As soon as his mind was occupied with simulations, he unconsciously began to return her kiss. Parker was surprised but all together pleased that he did not pull away. His arms wrapped around her and hers moved to his neck. In response to her hungry pulling at his lips, he let his tongue delve deeply into her mouth. He was pulled completely out of his simulations, but he was far too deep in the kiss to extract himself from her embrace.  
  
She pulled away from him momentarily to whisper "I love you," before attempting to capture his mouth a second time, but her pause gave him enough time to think and his relaxed muscles grew taught once more. He did not release her from his embrace, but she was not allowed to kiss him a second time. He merely looked at her with utter confusion riddling every line of his countenance. Parker knew then that she would not get away without a very detailed explanation.  
  
"Did you really remember everything," he begged, pushing her back slightly so that her scent wouldn't intoxicate him so thoroughly. He was almost completely distracted by her proximity, but he managed to maintain a space between their bodies.  
  
"I remember everything there could possibly be to remember," she answered, pulling even more away so that she could comfortably look him in the eye. "I remember every lie my father told me about you. I remember every letter that in retrospect I'm sure you never wrote or recieved. I remember irrationally blaming you for my mother's death. Call it twenty/twenty hindsight, but it only took a brief," Parker ran out of words as tears appeared in her pain-hooded eyes.  
  
"I love you," Jarod said. "I shouldn't need you to give me a reason, you have yet to incredulously ask me how it is that I love you."  
  
"It's too bad," Parker whispered, "You're really cute when you're incredulous." She stole his lips and he did not avoid her. 


End file.
